Thunderstorm
by writingscientist
Summary: "But there is something that I'd like you to see first. Did you know that I actually rather like thunderstorms?"


_My first story! Yay! Just some L and Near brotherly fluff. Makes a few references to some of my other stories about L and Near's pasts. Enjoy!_

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The furious fingers danced over the keyboard, as ceaseless and quick as if the fate of the world depended on the pace at which they typed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

And, considering whom they belonged to, there was a definite possibility that this could have been the case.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Their owner seemed oblivious to everything, save for the computer's overly bright screen where the fruits of his fingers many hours of labor continued to stream.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Boom!

The young detective jumped, having been rather rudely reminded of the world around him. He turned his unblinking, obsidian stare from his beloved laptop to the large bay window on the other side of his apartment. Rain had quickly begun to pour down the panes of glass, adding a melancholy appearance to an already rather dark room. L didn't mind, though. The rain was kind of nice, calming almost.

Boom! Crash! Boom!

The thunder on the other hand…The raven-haired man frowned to himself. He had no fear of thunderstorms, per say. After all, he had lived in England most of his life and they were a part of the summer season as much as the sunshine. But the noise itself was a little bothersome. Not frightening, just sort of jarring. And it definitely did not create the best conditions to write up a report about a South American drug smuggling operation.

Crash! Boom! Boom!

L jumped again, as if proving his own point. He let out a tiny sign of frustration. True, the Brazilian police force was not even going to need this report until many hours from now and the rest of the paper wouldn't take him long at all to finish. But he was L and as L, workaholic tendencies came with the job. One did not get to be the world's most renewed detective by stopping their work for something a trivial as a rainstorm. With that in mind, the young man continued.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Boom!

_Damn it._ The storm was just mocking him now. L gave a grunt of irritation, saved his work, and moved his laptop to the table beside the couch he was currently sitting on. The genius rubbed his eyes and settled more comfortably in his seat. It was just as well. The thunderstorm could knock out the power and though Wammy's House had a backup generator, there was always a glitch to his system when it tried to fix itself. He had lost work over the years to this problem and he did not intend for that to happen to this report.

Crash! Boom! Boom!

Lightning illuminated the room, throwing everything into sharp relief. L glanced to his left and started again, though for once it was through no fault of the storm. A little boy stood in the detective's doorway, his soft, white hair in disarray and a toy robot clutched to his chest. Clearly, he had just come from his bed.

Crash! Crash! Boom!

The tiny child's face was a blank mask, but L could detect a slight tremor in his body. A theory as to why the little one had appeared here in the middle of the night began to formulate in L's mind.

Crash! Boom! Boom!

Near held his robot a little closer to himself and his trembling increased. Now 85% sure that his hypothesis was correct, the young detective opened his arms in the universal gesture of "come here".

Crash! Boom! Boom! Crash!

The boy needed no more encouragement. He scampered as fast as his short legs would carry him across the foyer, before all but leaping into his mentor's arms. L gently situated the tiny body until it rested comfortably in the space between the detective's bent knees and his torso, fondly running long, thin fingers through Near's curly hair. As the genius held his protégé close, the percentage that his hypothesis was correct reached 99%: the poor thing was shaking like a leaf.

Boom! Crash! Crash!

The five year old clutched L tighter, burying in face into the soft cotton of his teacher's white shirt. But Near was anything if not proud, so despite the rather obviousness of his fear, he said nothing. But L was anything if not patient. So he waited, stroking the boy's hair and holding him warmly. Finally, after a good three minutes and twenty-three seconds, the tiny genius spoke.

"I don't like thunderstorms."

Boom! Crackle! Crash!

The storm seemed angry by his statement. The child whimpered quietly.

_100% correct_

Near's voice was its usual bland monotone as always, though a little muffled due to his face being pressed so closely to L's chest.

"Why?", his mentor whispered.

"The thunder reminds me of the sounds that cars make when they crash."

The boy's voice was resigned, but the barest traces of sadness could still be heard. Sadness for memories that he possessed and even more for the ones he did not. L held the child tighter and continued to stroke his hair. As he did, a series of images abruptly came to his own mind.

Crash. Crackle. Rumble.

A gunshot. A scream. Blood staining the lovely white of a woman's skin a deep crimson. And he, trapped and alone. Unable to do anything but watch. It was overwhelming. That awful, wretched feeling of complete and utter…

"Helplessness." His voice was barely a whisper.

Crash! Rumble.

"What?" Near looked up at him in surprise. L glanced down at his student.

"Helplessness.", he repeated. "That is what I do not like. The idea of being so at the mercy of someone or something else that there is nothing I can do to change it. Of having no power over even myself. I have phobias, too, you know."

Crash! Rumble. Rumble.

Near seemed startled by this new information. He played with a lock of his curly hair for a moment, a sure sign that he was thinking, before nodding and burying his face in L's chest again.

Rumble. Rumble.

The tiny child snuggled closer to his beloved idol.

L's smiled. He rubbed soothing circles on the boy's back and hummed softly. It was hardly a lullaby; barely more than a small tune and certainly not a real song, but it seemed to calm the little one all the same. The young man turned to look out the window. The storm seemed to be passing as quickly as it had come and the thunder had lessened to a distant rumble.

L felt his eyes began to droop. As a chronic insomniac, sleep was not something he frequently participated in. But his tiny charge's body heat was nice and the rain's steady pounding against the glass was almost hypnotic in its rhythm. The detective thought of his report for a moment. There was a 70% chance that he could still get it completed now, if he took Near back to his own room and drank some coffee.

But the little one cuddled closer and L reflexively held him tighter. He was so soft, like the stuffed animals he so loved.

60% chance.

Maybe he could just sit here a little while longer. To make sure that the boy was deeply asleep before he moved him.

50% chance

And maybe he could rest a little, too. Just so he was refreshed when he continued his work.

30% chance

Besides, Quillish was probably asleep. And he really didn't want to make his own coffee.

15% chance

Near let out a tiny snore.

10% chance

The couch really was very comfortable.

5% chance

L's eyes drifted shut.

0% chance

Cheep. Cheep.

Huh?

Tweet. Chirp.

Birds?

Cheep. Twitter. Cheep.

Why were they making all that noise?

Twitter. Chirp. Chirp.

Why couldn't they just be quiet? Couldn't they see he was trying to sleep?

Tweet. Twitter. Tweet.

Wait. Birds? Sleep? Why were the birds awake if he was not?

Cheep. Twitter. Twitter.

Something was shining on his face.

Cheep. Chirp. Tweet.

L opened his eyes. He was sitting on his favorite sofa and sunlight was pouring through his window. Clearly, the morning had arrived without him.

Cheep. Cheep. Tweet.

The birds were bullying him. Teasing him for his laziness. Well, he'd show them.

Twitter. Chirp. Chirp.

The detective was about to leap from his position on the couch and get a start on his much neglected report. But then he realized that to do that leaping he would have to use his legs and his legs seemed unable to move. L looked down.

Tweet. Tweet. Cheep.

Near, it seemed, was not bothered by the birds and their incessant cries to awaken. The tiny child was still sound asleep.

Cheep. Twitter. Chirp.

L smiled a little. Poor thing. He was probably exhausted after staying up so late during the storm. Wait. The storm? Hmm. An idea started to form.

Chirp. Twitter. Chirp.

The young detective took another look out the window and his smile widened. Just as I thought.

Tweet. Tweet. Cheep.

The thin man gently lifted his bitty pupil into his arms before climbing off his beloved sofa and heading to the exit of his apartment. He trotted quickly, but quietly, down the several flights of stairs. As expected, the House was silent. Morning or no, it was still very early and all the little ones were still asleep in their beds.

He arrived at the enormous set of doors that marked the main entrance to the school. Using one arm to hold his charge (he hardly weighed a thing anyway), L shook the child awake.

"Near.", he whispered. "Near, wake up."

The boy blinked his huge onyx eyes up at his teacher, before turning his sleepy stare to his surroundings. A frown of confusion bloomed on his face due to the question of why the two of them were not in L's quarters, but rather in the main hallway.

L gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry to wake you like this, little one. And you're welcome to go back sleep in a few minutes."

L put his spare hand on the door's handle.

"But there is something that I'd like you to see first. Did you know that I actually rather like thunderstorms?"

The tiny genius shook his head.

"Do you have any idea as to why I might like them?"

Another shake of the head.

The young man pushed the door open.

Near gasped.

L smiled.

Everything glittered. Some of the rain from the storm had been left behind on all the trees and flowers, which, when combined with the morning's bright sunlight, had created a work of art. The front lawn had been transformed into a picture from one of Near's fairytale books seemingly overnight. It was all so green and shining and wonderful.

Cheep. Chirp. Twitter.

The birds' songs had changed from a disapproving alarm to a welcoming chorus.

Chirp. Tweet. Tweet.

L stepped onto the porch, before walking down the steps and over to where some daisies were blooming in small garden. He fell into his usual crouch and looked down at them. Near looked at them, too, before turning back to his mentor, his expression one of interest. The detective's eyes were shining.

Twitter. Twitter. Chirp.

"I like thunderstorms because it is only through the fear and chaos that they bring that one can find something of such beauty."

Cheep. Twitter. Tweet.

The student nodded and gently picked one of the daisies. He held it up into the sunlight for closer inspection. It really was a lovely little flower. So white and pure and perfect.

Tweet. Tweet. Cheep.

The child brought the daisy to his nose and inhaled softly. Some of the raindrops slid off the petals.

"I'm not scared anymore, L."

Near's smile was a thing of beauty.

The rain from L's eyes resupplied glitter to the daisy.


End file.
